


Stranger Omens

by Yelhsabeech



Category: Good Omens (TV), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Stranger Things Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Don't @ me too hard, Eleven Whump, Eleven | Jane Hopper Needs A Hug, Exhaustion, Fear, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what I'm doing, Ineffable Dads, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Injury Recovery, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Injuries, No Pandemic, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Recovery, Sad Eleven | Jane Hopper, Tags May Change, Telekinesis, Trauma, mild romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yelhsabeech/pseuds/Yelhsabeech
Summary: Crowley was just trying to enjoy his retirement with his angel. He certainly didn't expect or ask for the little bald kid reeking with fear and immune to his miracles to come in and muck everything up. He should have just turned and walked away.Except, Crowley was never good at leaving well enough alone, and was especially bad at ignoring kids...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 97
Collections: Good Omens, Strangers Things





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I thought of this story when I was kinda drunk and I just frantically wrote it. The plan right now is to make this a 'Stranger Omens' verse collection. This first one will be a multi-chapter fic.
> 
> This story takes place right when Eleven escapes, except that the mysterious place she was held was in the UK instead of the US. After that, we see some pretty heavy canon divergence. Eleven is the only character from the show except maybe an appearence from 'Papa' and the demigorgon. 
> 
> I added the mature tag because there is some depictions of violence and some pretty heavy Eleven whump in the beginning. I made the conditions when she was held prisoner much worse, and I have also given her better control of her powers. We do have a happy ending for this little family!

Crowley sauntered down the street on his way to the bookshop, most definitely not humming _Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy_ as he swayed. And even if he was humming, no one could blame him for being in a good mood. The Apocanope had come and gone, this quirky, infuriating, lovable world continued to spin around its star and things had gone back to normal. 

Well not entirely normal, Crowley and his angel had their celebratory lunch at the Ritz, and afterwards at the bookshop the secret Crowley had been carrying for 6000 years had burst out of him as he squawked “I love you!” at the sight of Aziraphale back in his bookshop. Bright and safe, alive and happy. Before he could miracle himself to the bottom of an ocean, or Mars, or Alpha Centauri, Aziraphale had grabbed his hand and pulled him against his softness with a gentle “I love you too my darling Crowley” before pulling him into a kiss, the first of many. 

Now six months had gone by in their new normal and Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this much at peace while still being awake. On this particular day he had a wonderful morning gluing coins to the sidewalk and filming it for his Twitter followers. Once he had decided he had been enough of an annoyance, he decided to go see the angel. His angel. On his trek he saw the new restaurant Aziraphale had been talking about. 

He flung open the door carelessly and scanned the menu for those quiche things Aziraphale implored him to get. He was waiting in line, still humming and gently swaying when he first felt it. Angels could sense positive emotions like happiness and love. Demons however, could sense the negative ones, fear, and hate. This feeling that suddenly overwhelmed Crowley’s senses however, was terror. Mortal, utter, suffocating terror that felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. It was a dark, cloying thing that made him want to scream and gag. 

He whipped his head around, flicking his tongue out to find the source even as he winced at the fear’s metallic taste. He froze when he looked behind the counter to the open back entrance of the restaurant. 

A child, a painfully thin, dirty child with a shaved head and wearing what appeared to be some sort of hospital gown or pillow case had snuck in. They pressed themselves to the wall, keeping out of sight as they crept towards the kitchen. Their wide brown eyes looked huge on their near skeletal form as they darted around the restaurant. Now that he had a visual he could also sense the emotions under the terror; the bone deep exhaustion, the hunger, the panic and dread, the pain. 

Crowley had always liked kids. They were never as judgemental as adults, and their imagination was beyond compare. In his opinion they were perfect humans; uncorrupted by the world, creative, hopeful and funny as hell. He never could bring himself to turn away from a child in pain or in need, even if it had caused some uncomfortably close calls with hell. 

He still congratulated himself for his smooth talking to justify defying God’s will and sneaking 40 or so kids on the ark before the Flood. Aziraphale had been shocked to find him there, but looked the other way, and to this day remained the only person who knew about his soft spot for children, readily agreeing when Crowley asked to be disguised as Warlock’s nanny and he only lightly complained when Aziraphale insisted on regular visits with Anathema and the Them.

Something had caught the kids eye as they darted forward out of Crowley’s line of vision. Crowley left the line and walked towards the kitchen, trying not to attract any attention, sending a small, not quite miracle for the humans to not notice him. If he moved to the side he could see through into the kitchen where the kid was wolfing down a plate of food on the counter. 

Crowley saw the cook come out of the freezer in the back behind the kid. He locked eyes on the kid and just as he opened his mouth to yell Crowley acted without thinking. With a snap of his fingers he stopped time and walked through the restaurant into the kitchen where he halted in his tracks to see the kid _still eating._

He looked around and confirmed that yeah, he stopped time alright. For some reason his miracles didn’t work on the kid, which frankly made him all the more curious about this. He was never good at not asking questions. Crowley walked slow and blocked the back exit to keep the kid from making a run for it before calling out softly. 

“Hey, you need some help?”

The terror rolling through the kid spiked sharply as they jumped back from the food like they had been burned. When they saw Crowley blocking the exit they frantically turned around and ran to the corners looking for an exit, clawing at the walls like a trapped animal. 

“Easy kid, _easy_ ,” Crowley tried to sooth, trying not to choke on the fear pouring off of them, “you’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.”

The kid was clearly deaf to him though, panicking and gasping, knocking things over in their desperation. He could sense from their energy the moment it became too much and when their eyes rolled in the back of their head, Crowley darted forward to catch them as they collapsed from exhaustion and fear.

“Well,” Crowley murmured. “That went down like a lead balloon.”

As he picked them up, he cringed at how light they were. When he looked down at them he could see through the dirt that they were a little girl, maybe around the age of 8, but it was hard to tell when they were so thin. His heart ached at the dark circles under their eyes, and the bruises that he could see littering their arms and legs. He did a double take when he saw the number 11 tattooed on one of their wrists, his stomach giving an unpleasant lurch at the sight.

He couldn’t leave her, he realized. There were already too many factors at play, this kid was clearly running from something and the fact that she seemed to be immune to his miracles was definitely something Crowley wanted to look further into. 

With his decision made, he miracled the kitchen back into order and wrapped her in his leather jacket before picking her up and walking out of the restaurant. As he restarted time, he ensured that the cook thought he was just seeing things from being overworked. Willing the humans not to notice him, he made a beeline for the bookshop with not very mild anxiety.

Aziraphale was gonna be pissed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He was hoping Crowley would bring lunch soon, as he found himself getting a bit peckish. 
> 
> So he was quite put out when Crowley stormed in with not a box full of quiche like he had hoped, but what appeared to be a small child bundled in his jacket...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets caught up and they take her in!
> 
> Apologies for any spelling errors and spacing issues, if there is anything particularly glaring feel free to let me know :)

Aziraphale hummed happily as he rearranged his sorting system for his books. He was pleased with the lack of customers with the lack of customers today, as chasing them off can be a bit of a bother sometimes. He was hoping Crowley would bring lunch soon, as he found himself getting a bit peckish. 

So he was quite put out when Crowley stormed in with not a box full of quiche like he had hoped, but what appeared to be a small child bundled in his jacket.

“Crowley! What are you doing?!”

“Sorry angel! Sorry not sorry!” Crowley called over his shoulder as he rushed past Aziraphale into the back room of the bookshop. “Had a bit of a ngk-thing. Didn’t get a chance to grab the food.”

“Do you want to explain to me how you’ve managed to kidnap a child instead?”

“I didn’t kidnap her! Kid was alone and hungry; hurt too, looks like.”

“Why did you bring her here then Crowley?”

“I couldn’t leave her Aziraphale,” Crowley placed the limp girl on the couch with ease. “She would have caused a right muck up and I couldn’t heal her at the restaurant.”

“Why not?”

“Because my miracles don’t work on her angel.”

“What do you mean they don’t work?”

“The hell does it sound like?  _ They don't work. _ I stopped bloody time and she just kept going. I tried to heal her but I can’t. I can see what’s wrong but I can't do anything about it.” As he spoke Crowley’s voice got louder as he grew more agitated by the situation and his helplessness. 

Aziraphale frowned at that, appraising the girl on the couch for the first time. He wouldn’t have been sure if Crowley hadn’t said she was a girl. The poor thing was incredibly thin and dirty; it looked like she had escaped from a hospital, with her dirty white gown and shaved head. 

“Well then let me give it a go dear.”

Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand over her shaved head, frowning in concern when she flinched away even in her sleep. He channeled his angelic grace to see beyond her physical appearance. He could sense the bruises and scrapes on her arms and legs, a broken rib, a malnourished and exhausted body, he felt a spike of righteous anger when he saw a large bruise around her neck. 

His anger only grew, clenching his jaw when he saw the number 11 tattooed on her right wrist. Memories flashed through his mind, back to the time of slavery when human tattooed and branded other human before selling them like cattle, or marked them as prisoners. It had been a long time since he felt like smiting anyone, but the very idea that someone could do this to a child...

When he went to heal her injuries though, nothing happened. It was like Crowley said, his powers ran into some sort of barrier, where he could sense and see, but nothing more. He even tried to bless her with good dreams, only to have the blessing just...stay in his form. 

“What on earth?” He muttered, glancing at Crowley and shaking his head to confirm he wasn’t able to heal her either. Crowley’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. 

“Kinda hoped it was just a demon thing.” Crowley muttered. 

Now curious and more than a little concerned, he opened more of the eyes in his true form to make sure that she was in fact human. Everything showed him that this was a perfectly ordinary human child. But no human had ever been immune to his and Crowley’s powers before. Some were a little bit more stubborn, sure; required a little more oomf behind the miracle so to speak, but it was rather alarming to have them just not work at all. 

When Aziraphale removed his hand from the girl’s head, Crowley leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “The way I see it angel, her injuries aren’t bad enough to warrant a trip to hospital, and since her body’s not showing any signs of treatment, I don’t think she escaped a hospital. I think she’s running from whoever gave her that” He gestured toward the tattoo. Crowley took off his glasses to look up at him, the yellow completely filling his eyes, which were looking at Aziraphale almost desperately. 

“Aziraphale if you could have felt her fear. I haven't sssensed so much sssuffering in a human since the 2nd world war. Just radiating terror; and my lot love the ssstuff, negative emotions, sssuffering and the like. For Satan's sake Aziraphale she was practically a dinner bell for demons.”

Crowley was doing that thing again where he was tempting Aziraphale without even trying to tempt him. He had known for a millenia about Crowley’s penchant for children, and honestly it was one of the many things Aziraphale loved about him. It was one of a plethora of indicators that Crowley wasn’t like other demons. And he was right really; Aziraphale couldn’t in good conscience turn away someone who may be in danger, especially as they were immune to their miracles, it made her vulnerable if not even an  _ angel _ could help her. 

Aziraphale sighed, acknowledging defeat. “Very well, it would be the angelic thing to do to make sure she is safe before making other arrangements for her.” Crowley slouched in relief, nodding rapidly at Aziraphale’s line of thinking. “I’d like to do some more research on her immunity as well, perhaps she’s been cursed? Really the only other child who was more or less immune to us was the-”

“Antichrist.” Crowley finished for him, his face grim. 

“Quite right. I feel like I would have heard something from Upstairs or Downstairs if there was going to be another go at the apocalypse.”

“Well we’re not exactly on the best terms with either of them at the moment. But you’re right, I think we’d hear something.” Crowley got up and stretched his too long spine, “You can research the magic side, and I’ll refresh myself on human medicine. Without miracles it looks like we’ll be patching her up the human way.”

“You're going to be miracling up a spare bedroom dear. Once we get her all sorted then we can start looking for some suitable guardians for her.”

Crowley made to go upstairs to take care of the spare bedroom before stopping and wrapping Aziraphale up in a hug. “Thank you angel.” He buried his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s soft neck. 

Before Aziraphale could make a teasing remark about Crowley being nice, he jetted up the stairs to their shared flat, presumably to miracle the building bigger for an extra room. 

Now alone, he looked at the girl again, and vaguely pondered if she would enjoy quiche. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be interesting to make Eleven more or less immune to their miracles as a sort of self-defense mechanism and because of her powers. 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Drink water and stay safee my dears!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No? No as in you don’t want to find your parents?” Eleven shook her head. “You’re in trouble aren’t you kid?”   
> She looked away and said softly, “Bad...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness the mystery seems to be deepening for our boys as they finally make their introductions to Eleven!

Aziraphale calmly drank his seventh cup of tea while leafing through one of his older books of prophecy, a stack of spellbooks and occult research rapidly growing beside him. He was steadily working his way through all the literature he had on magic and curses while the girl rested on the couch beside him.

The girl had been asleep for several hours now. They didn’t want to risk moving her for fear she’ll wake, but they also didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone downstairs. So they let her rest on the couch and Aziraphale conjured a blanket to tuck her into even as Crowley whined about his choice to make it tartan. 

Crowley had spent the first few hours researching human medical care, but it was more of a refresher. He was actually quite skilled in healing, as he served as a medic in the last three major wars, telling hell it was the perfect place to foment and spread disease, blah blah blah. So even without miracles he felt confident that he could handle a broken rib and some bruises. It was the psychological component that he was unsure of. Aziraphale didn’t carry much in terms of coping with trauma, and he had no idea what this kid had been through.

Considering the possibilities was what led Crowley down a train of thought that had him prowling through the shop like a caged cat. Eventually the incessant energy got to Aziraphale as he finally put his book down to speak to Crowley. 

“Crowley for heaven’s sake,” he ignored the annoyed growl Crowley emitted at one of their previous employers; “would you please stop your infernal pacing before you wear a whole in my rug? It’s over 150 years old you know!” 

Crowley made a garbled sound and collapsed on a nearby chair, sprawling in a way that would have been impossible for a human. He settled for watching Aziraphale, foot jiggling impatiently. 

“Found anything yet angel?” 

“Mmm no, nothing yet.” Azirpahale hummed in consideration before setting his book aside. “I am fairly sure she isn’t another Antichrist.”

“Fairly sure? Comforting.”

He ignored Crowley and picked up another book to begin flipping through. “Well we can’t rule anything out yet, but so far I’m leaning towards a possible curse? It’s hard to tell when she isn’t awake.”

They both nearly jumped out of their skin when the girl suddenly shot up with a gasp, kicking frantically at the blanket. 

“Hey, hey it’s ok,” Crowley composed himself first, leaning forward and crouching in front of the child while Aziraphale still grasped at his chest. “Everything’s alright, you’re safe.”

When the kid saw him she froze like a deer in headlights. Crowley winced at her fear, not as intense as it was before, but still strong enough to make him feel chills down his inhuman spine. They sat in silence for a few moments before Crowley slowly grabbed a water bottle that definitely was not next to him a few moments ago and handed it to her. “Here kid, you’re probably thirsty right?”

She watched him, distrust pouring off her in waves. Cautiously she reached out, jerking her hand back a few times as if it was a trick before grabbing the bottle in her thin hands and began drinking frantically, as if it was going to be taken away at any second. Her wide eyes flickered between him and Aziraphale, hardly even blinking. Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, whose face was carefully blank apart from the concern that filled his blue eyes. 

When she finished the water bottle she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes started scanning her surroundings, clearly looking for some kind of exit before flickering back to them. 

“Right so,” Crowley said, “How we feeling?”

The kid didn’t answer, looking confused by the question. Crowley briefly wondered if she spoke English, but to be fair he supposed it was a difficult question to answer given the circumstances. He hummed a moment before deciding to change strategies. 

“Ok, probably a tough question right now. Let’s start with introductions. I’m Crowley, and this,” he gestured toward Aziraphale, who gave a strained smile and waved awkwardly; “is Aziraphale.” he turned to look at her through his sunglasses, “We’re not gonna hurt you. Can you tell us your name?”

She nodded and showed him her wrist, the number **011** in black ink sticking out starkly against her pale wrist. He cocked his head to the side before reaching out to touch; before he could however, she jerked her wrist back with a sharp inhale. He held out his hands in a disarming manner. 

“Ok, ok no touching. Little young for a tattoo though eh? What’s it mean?” She confirmed his suspicions when she pointed to herself. “That’s your name? Eleven?” She nodded and Crowley felt the beginnings of anger start bubbling in his core as he realized that this girl has probably been mistreated all of her life.

“Well Eleven,” Aziraphale offered, “it’s a pleasure to meet you dear girl. I’m sure you’re eager to get into something more comfortable.” He pulled a tartan sweater and gray sweatpants from nowhere and offered them to Eleven, who took them and lightly nuzzled the fabric. Crowley’s heart constricted at the sight and he shot a grateful look at Aziraphale, who smiled gently back at him. 

Instead of seeking privacy like they expected, Eleven merely stood up and stripped her gown, oblivious to Aziraphale’s frantic sputtering. Crowley gave a cursory glance over the bruises and welts on her body, making a mental checklist of wounds to treat before looking away. 

Now dressed in the baggy sweater and sweats, Eleven sat back down on the couch and criss-crossed her legs under her. Apparently deciding for now they weren’t a threat, she began looking around the back of the shop, taking in the large stacks of books and old but comfortable furniture that littered the room. Crowley was encouraged to feel that her fear was steadily subsiding, being gradually replaced by curiosity. 

After Eleven yawned, Crowley remembered the bedroom above them. 

“It is getting a bit late isn’t it?” Crowley glanced at a clock and saw it was past one in the morning. “Definitely past my bedtime. What do you say to some rest? We’ve gotta bed upstairs, you’re welcome to it. I know you’re hurt, so if you feel up to it in the morning we can start patching you up, and maybe call your parents-”

“No.” It was the first word they heard her say. 

“Ah so she does speak,” Crowley said, feeling no small amount of relief that she could in fact talk. When his quip failed to bring a smile, his face turned serious again. 

“No? No as in you don’t want to find your parents?” Eleven shook her head. “You’re in trouble aren’t you kid?” 

She looked away and said softly, “Bad.”

“Bad.” Crowley repeated, “You’re in trouble with bad people? Did the bad people do this to you? Hurt you?”

Looking Crowley in the eyes, as if important for him to understand, she mimed a gun to her head, before slowly pointing it at Crowley, then Aziraphale. 

Crowley exhaled forcefully before speaking again. “That kinda trouble huh?” Eleven nodded, looking slightly grateful that he understood. Crowley looked at Aziraphale to see that he looked just as concerned as he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose, Someone he needed a drink. 

“Ok, ok, so no parents. How about we start smaller hmm? We’ll go to bed and we can talk more about this in the morning, sound good?” Eleven nodded and Crowley smiled when she yawned again. 

Eleven followed them up the stairs, casting bewildered looks over the kitchen and the plethora of books and plants that overran their shared space. Aziraphale puttered about lightly before stopping in front of a new door. “Here we are dear.”

Crowley didn’t have much to work with not knowing the kid, so it was a plain room, with darker blues and beiges. It had a walk-in closet and it’s own en-suite, with a bed in the center and a writing desk by a new window. 

“Oh Crowley it’s lovely!” Aziraphale chirped happily while Crowley grumbled behind them. Eleven silently looked around the room before she walked into the closet. 

“Don’t have much in the way of stuff of course.” Crowley said as he leaned against the doorframe to the closet, slightly nervous at her lack of reaction; “But when we get you some clothes you’ll be able to keep them in here.” 

Eleven nodded in understanding before turning back to Crowley. “A nice room.” She murmured before sitting on the carpeted floor, stretching herself out before laying down before Crowley could react. 

“Oh. Oh no.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded tearful as he realized that Eleven thought the closet was her room. Crowley had to clench his jaw to keep the sadness and anger of seeing her curled up on the ground from showing on his face. 

“Er-no kid. That’s not where you sleep.” He forced himself to keep his voice gentle as he backed up into the room and gestured to the bed, “That is.” 

Eleven followed him tentatively, staring at the bed before poking the soft pillows as if they might explode. She turned to them again, the look on her face clearly asking, ‘Here?’ 

Crowley nodded and gave a strained smile. “Yup, there. Aziraphale and I are the door at the end of the hall. If you need anything, feel free to knock. Aziraphale doesn’t really sleep so he can wake me up if need be ok?” He turned around to leave the room, sensing that she needed to be alone now. “Night Eleven.” He barely heard her voice as they exited the room. 

“Night Crowley. Night Aziraphale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll go to back to Aziraphale and we'll get a little domestic fluff from these guys!
> 
> Let me know what you think? 
> 
> Drink plenty of water and stay safe my dears! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now Eleven dear I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in.” Eleven jerked her head up to look at him, clearly alarmed at the abrupt change of subject. “But I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Crowley and I can keep you safe....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale decides, "This my baby now. We have baby."

Aziraphale quietly climbed the stairs to their flat when he noticed the sun was starting to spill through the windows. He tried not to be too disappointed; he had been up all night researching everything from curses to prophecies to psychics, but he had yet to find anything close to resembling their quandary. 

His mind kept going back to Eleven, he didn’t know if he had ever seen a child so young look so.. haunted before. It certainly wasn’t in the last few millennia. Aziraphale didn’t know much about her yet, but from what he could sense Eleven seemed to be a gentle soul. He wasn’t as good at detecting negative emotions as Crowley was, but he could tell when someone had evil intentions in their heart. That description didn't match Eleven at all, and he could only hope that whoever had made her so afraid and malnourished had a special place reserved for them Downstairs. 

He entered the flat and brightened considerably when he saw Crowley in their kitchen, making waffles. Crowley always acted like cooking was an inconvenience, rolling his eyes at Aziraphale’s argument that miracled food didn’t quite taste the same. But Crowley had really quite the talent for it and they have had fun exploring recipes since he moved in. 

“Morning angel.”

“Good morning my darling.” Aziraphale walked over to steal a strawberry and a kiss.

“Oi that’s for toppings you little thief.” Crowley chided as he gave his kiss freely. “Any luck finding anything?”

Aziraphale sighed, “No nothing yet. Rather disheartening if I’m being honest. Anything interesting happen up here?”

“Nope.” Crowley added extra emphasis on popping the p. “Quiet as a mouse that one. And don’t lose hope yet angel. I’ve been thinking, remember Book Girl?”

Aziraphale cocked his head curiously, “You think she might be of some help?”

Crowley shrugged, “Couldn’t hurt. Maybe she’ll find something in the kid's ‘aura thingy’.” 

“I don’t think that’s what it’s called dearest…” He trailed off as he saw the bedroom door open slightly, and a little brown eye peek through. “Oh good morning dear!”

Eleven silently slipped through the door and into the living room. Aziraphale couldn’t help but marvel at just how quiet she was. In his previous experience, children tended to be quite loud and messy, especially Warlock. But she was so quiet it was like she was almost invisible. _That’s probably exactly what she’s trying to do,_ he realized. 

“Hey kid,” Crowley called over his shoulder; “Go ahead and take a seat, ‘M almost finished with breakfast here.”

She sat down at their small dining table, pulling her knees up close to her chest, bony little elbows jutting out and sniffing the air with interest.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Aziraphale offered; even though he wasn’t speaking loudly she still flinched slightly at being addressed. 

“Tea?” Eleven repeated softly. 

“Yes, tea; you have had tea before yes?” When Eleven shook her head Aziraphale felt his heart pang with sadness at a life without tea before shaking himself and beaming at her. 

“Well! You are in for a treat if I do say so myself! But oh goodness, which kind? Want to make a good first impression” Aziraphale began to fret as he searched through the boxes, muttering under his breath. 

Crowley chuckled under his breath and shook his head fondly as Aziraphale got to work brewing a nice chamomile blend. He piled the waffles on a large dish and set them on the table before bringing over maple syrup, whipped cream, and a variety of fruits. He had just finished setting the table when Aziraphale placed a steaming mug in front of Eleven before taking a seat next to her. 

Eleven looked at the cup and cocked her head curiously. Upon seeing the steam she lightly poked the tip of her finger in the liquid before pulling it back out. “Hot.” She whispered. 

“Ah yes, that is how it’s traditionally served. It can be served cold, but there is some debate on whether or not that enhances or reduces the flavor. And don’t even get me started on what the Americans have done to their tea-”

“How many waffles would you like, angel?” Crowley cut off Aziraphale’s rant before he could pick up steam, having already heard this diatribe many times before over the centuries. 

“2 please dearest, you know how I like them.” He smiled as Crowley piled his waffles with cream and fruit, setting it in front of him before preparing a plate for Eleven. 

Aziraphale watched Eleven stare at the waffles before tentatively grabbing one by hand and taking a bite. He couldn’t bring himself to encourage her to use silverware when he saw her eyes widen considerably at the taste. She looked between Crowley and Aziraphale before she started eating much faster. 

Crowley seemed to feel the same, as he was grinning proudly from ear to ear as he watched her while sipping his espresso. “You think their good plain you should try them with toppings.”

Eleven reached towards the platter of fruit, unsure and looking at both of them for reassurance. At their encouraging nod she took a couple of strawberries and bit into one. They could tell it was her first time trying the fruit as she gasped quietly before grabbing several more to pile onto her waffle. She wasn’t smiling, but Aziraphale could see a corner of her lips hinting at quirking up and that alone felt profoundly rewarding. 

When they finished breakfast Crowley collected the dishes, putting them in the sink to be miracled clean later while Eleven sipped her tea. She looked much more relaxed, eyes slightly droopy and a hand over stomach as she looked around the flat. Aziraphale offered to give Eleven a tour of the rest of the flat and shop. 

As the three of them walked downstairs, with Eleven following Aziraphale and Crowley trailing behind, Aziraphale mentioned that he tried not to sell books if he could possibly help it when Eleven asked her first question of the day. 

“What are books?” She let out a small sound of surprise when she walked into Aziraphale, who had stopped in his tracks.

He turned around slowly to look at her, looking every bit like he had been slapped instead of asked a question. It reminded Crowley of a kicked puppy, but somehow worse, like an orphaned baby otter, or a stomped on baby panda, or a verbally abused bunny, or a duckling with a cancer diagnosis... 

“Oh my dear girl.” Aziraphale sounded like he was trying not to cry. “May I ask you some questions?”

Eleven wasn’t sure what she said to warrant such a reaction, but looked incredibly guilty and a little afraid, nodded. 

“How old are you?”

Eleven frowned in thought, “10, I think.”

Aziraphale nodded as he saw Crowley wince out of the corner of his eye. She was so small and thin she was closer to the size of a 7 year old. Composing himself and keeping his expression perfectly benign, he asked his follow up question.

“And are you able to read?”

Eleven looked at him a long moment before slowly shaking her head no. She turned her gaze downcast, and Crowley could feel the confusion and shame starting to emanate from her. “Sorry.” Her voice was barely audible. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for little one, and nothing to be ashamed of.” Aziraphale’s voice had gotten stronger, and he had that set look on his face Crowley learned to recognize only appeared on the angel’s face when he came to a decision about something, and nothing in the universe could change his mind. 

“Now Eleven dear I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in.” Eleven jerked her head up to look at him, clearly alarmed at the abrupt change of subject. “But I do know without a shadow of a doubt, that Crowley and I can keep you safe.”

Crowley was watching Aziraphale now too with a hopeful look on his face; he had an idea where this was going but he wanted to be sure. 

“If it’s alright with you, you can live with us.” He looked at Crowley for a moment, relieved when he saw Crowley nodding, wordlessly agreeing with his decision. “You can stay in the spare bedroom and we’ll take care of you, teach you anything and everything you would like to know, and more importantly we will make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

“We’re not entirely sure what we’re doing, mind you.” Crowley chimed in at this point. “I’ve raised kids before, but I sleep too much and Aziraphale’s too fussy.” He ignored Aziraphale’s huff; “We can help you though, we want to help you, but it’s your choice. Would you like to stay?”

Eleven opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly overwhelmed by their offer. After taking a few shaky breaths, she took a couple of steps forward and placed her little thin hand in Aziraphale’s, nodding at both of them as a few tears leaked from her eyes. 

Aziraphale was surprised to feel a lump in his own throat. He hadn’t known what had gotten into him, adopting a child on a whim like this. But even though they had only known Eleven for a day, Aziraphale could sense that she was a lovely child and anyone would be lucky to have her. With that being said, he refused to let Eleven go back to guardians who clearly cared so little about her that they would deny her basic necessities and access to knowledge. 

Aziraphale was starting to get the feeling that Eleven was exactly where she was supposed to be; that this could very well be part of Her Ineffable Plan. How else does one explain how a child immune to the miracles of an angel and a demon end up in their care of all places? It seemed to be just too much of a coincidence.

“Well! Now that that's settled,” Aziraphale walked towards the front of the bookshop, extraordinarily pleased when Eleven didn’t let go of his hand; “We can finally start talking about books!” He couldn’t resist a happy wiggle at the thought of showing off his first editions. 

“Books are some of my favorite things on Earth, besides Crowley.” He smirked when Crowley flushed red enough to match his hair. “There are quite a few stories that I think you would enjoy, I could read them to you if you like…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Eleven read?? I don't think she could in the first season?? I know she learned eventually, but in my story let's say she couldn't.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and thoughts nourish my soul<3
> 
> Drink plenty of water and stay safe my dears!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aziraphale clapped a hand to his mouth and the entire room froze. Crowley watched Eleven and was bemused to see that she didn’t look afraid, if anything she looked mildly surprised. After a long moment, Aziraphale began stuttering some sort of explanation..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad then we got the plot moving along!

Aziraphale never opened the shop that day, instead giving Eleven a tour of the entire bookshop, giving detailed explanations behind certain books that Crowley was positive Eleven didn’t understand, but she listened without interrupting. He calmly pointed out the books that he would prefer she not touch, and Eleven would stare at it, as if trying to memorize it. 

For lunch Crowley went for takeaway. Since Eleven still hadn’t gotten the hang of silverware yet, he ordered fish and chips. He couldn’t tell yet if she was eating so fast because she was hungry or because she genuinely liked the food; and he was pretty sure she would eat it anyway even if she did hate it. His plan was to introduce a variety of foods slowly, then start asking her to pick her preferences to see if he could find favorites. 

Overall it had been a rather pleasant day until nightfall came. Crowley had introduced Aziraphale to the joys of online shopping, and had gotten accustomed to packages frequently being dropped off at the shop. When a delivery came in the early evening, the postman knocked firmly on the door to request a signature. 

At the sound of the knock, Eleven jolted from her spot on the couch and ran to the back wall of the shop, looking for a hiding place. Aziraphale stood up to go to her, but then the postman knocked again, sending Eleven diving under the writing desk, curling her legs to her chest and shaking with fear, a faraway look in her eyes. Aziraphale hurried to answer the door while Crowley worked to coax her from her hiding spot. 

By the time Aziraphale had signed for the package and joined them into the back of the shop, Crowley still hadn’t had any luck convincing her to come out. 

“Eleven? Dear?” Aziraphale sent out a calming energy throughout the room, kneeling down in front of her. “It’s alright, it was just the mail. I’m so sorry it frightened you. You’re safe.”

Seeing Aziraphale unharmed seemed to reassure her, and Eleven allowed him to guide her through some deep breaths before slowly crawling out from under the desk. When she stood on shaky legs, her face was pale and shining slightly with a cold sweat. Crowley recognized that look and quickly grabbed a waste bin and caught her when her legs gave out. 

“Breathe in deep” Crowley heard himself saying.

Eleven took a big gulp of air, “I’ll be sick,” she mumbled.

“That’s alright, s’what the bucket is for. Go on, I’m holding you, breathe in deep.”

Eleven obeyed, and immediately vomited.

“Go on,” Crowley murmured, “just keep breathing.”

Eleven was sick again and again until there was nothing left inside her and she hung limply in Crowley’s arms. 

Crowley gently picked her up, tucking her against his shoulder and went upstairs. Aziraphale waved the bucket of vomit away without a second thought and followed them up to their flat.

When they arrived at her bedroom Crowley pulled the duvet down, frowning when he noticed it didn’t even look slept in. He laid her down on the bed, watching her sink into the mattress like a rag doll. He tucked the blanket around her, sat on the foot of the bed and watched her fall asleep. 

Aziraphale had been standing near the doorway, wringing his hands. “Crowley what’s wrong? Is she ill?”

“Yes and no.” Crowley responded, “I should have anticipated this, I’m an idiot.”

“So you know what’s wrong?”

“Pretty sure it’s refeeding syndrome.” When Crowley saw Aziraphale was clearly waiting for more explanation he continued; “When someone has been malnourished and starving for a while, human bodies adapt to it. When you introduce food after not having anything, it’s a shock to the system, the body sometimes rejects it.” He gestured towards Eleven, “Her ankles and wrists are swollen, tells me there’s a fluid imbalance, can be dangerous in some cases.”

“What do we do?”

“We watch her. Introduce foods slowly. We overwhelmed her with all the food today, should probably stick to broth and liquids for the time being.”

He stood up and headed for the door. “I need a drink already. Coming back downstairs angel?”

Aziraphale looked between him and Eleven. “If it’s alright with you dear I’d rather not leave her just yet. I was thinking I could just read something while she slept.”

Crowley felt his heart swell with a tender ache, but worked to keep his expression aloof. “Sure angel, whatever you want,” he shrugged, realizing he wasn’t fooling anyone when Aziraphale gave a knowing smile in return. “Can I bring you anything?” 

Aziraphale demurred “Oh well.. If you’re offering…”

Crowley smirked, “Tea or cocoa?”

He beamed in response “Cocoa would be lovely right about now dear!” 

Aziraphale miracled up a book and quietly read aloud to her for the next hour before turning off the lamp and leaving the room for the night. He couldn’t bless her with good dreams, but he hoped that maybe some of the story would absorb even while she slept. He wasn’t sure, he would have to review human dream psychology, he certainly hoped it had changed since that Freud fellow…

In the morning Crowley found her curled into a tiny ball under the bed. The sheets were drenched in urine. He stripped them off the mattress and piled the sheets in the corner of the room to be dealt with later before kneeling down to peer under the bed.

Her face was pale and sweaty, and he could feel her fear and shame. She was trembling slightly, staring at him but clearly somewhere else, somewhere worse. More than once he wished he had the angel’s ability to send out those ‘be not afraid feelings’ that always seemed to calm humans down.

He allowed his nanny instincts to take over and he gently reached his arms out, careful not to touch her yet. “Eleven? Eleven come here little snake, you’re alright.”

At the sound of his voice she focused her eyes on him and dragged herself within his reach, whimpering with dread. As if she was made of glass, Crowley gently picked her up and carried her into the bathroom, murmuring soothing words the entire way. He started the water and ordered the bath to fill up quickly as he grabbed a towel and some soap. 

“Sorry,” She kept repeating fearfully, “‘M sorry Crowley.”

Crowley just quietly hummed and pulled out the first aid kit that had just appeared in the bathroom cabinet. When he set her down he stripped off her soiled garments. The bruises and welts stuck out angrily against her protruding ribs and swollen stomach. She was trembling so hard she could barely stand, lips nearly blue. 

When he turned off the water and went to place her in the tub, she started struggling weakly and her panic spiked sharply. 

“No, no please Mr. Crowley. I’ll be good, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t..”

Crowley froze, unsure of the cause of her fear. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad place.” She said, starting to weep now, “Don’t make me go. Please-”

“What do you mean..?” Crowley stopped himself, it was a stupid question. Obviously she's got some poor memories attached to water, but now wasn’t a good time to talk about it. “It’s not deep enough to drown in kiddo. You don’t put your head under, just sit in it. You’re alright, you just need to get clean and warm ok?”

It took some time to get Eleven to relax in the water. The bubbles made her nervous and she nearly hyperventilated when Crowley suggested leaving the room to give her privacy. Eventually though, Crowley was pleased to see that she was enjoying the bubbles, and had sunk into the water where only her eyes were exposed. 

When it came time for her to get out of the bath, Crowley let her dry off and applied ointment to the scratches and abrasions on her skin. There wasn’t much he could do for the bruises, they were already starting to heal on their own, turning bluish-green at the edges. He wrapped her up in another fluffy towel before going into the bedroom to miracle up some more clothes for her. 

When he entered the bedroom he saw that the sheets were gone and the mattress was suddenly clean. He silently thanked Aziraphale before willing a black pair of sweats and a red sweater into existence.

After she dressed, she followed Crowley outside into the living room where Aziraphale sat in a nearby armchair reading. He looked up at them over his half moon spectacles that he didn’t need and smiled warmly. 

“Good morning my dears! Are we feeling better, Eleven?”

Eleven nodded shyly, and Aziraphale’s smile brightened a few megawatts. 

“Wonderful! Well I was thinking we could have a bit of a lighter breakfast this morning, perhaps some toast? Oh and I have a lovely mint tea I think you’ll enjoy!”

Eleven followed Aziraphale around the kitchen, watching him putter about making tea and toast. When everything was prepared, they sat at the small dining table while Eleven nibbled on her toast and Aziraphale indulged in some leftover danishes. 

Aziraphale really didn’t know what came over him next. He knew from the sheets that Eleven had a difficult night, and he was so relieved to see some color in her cheeks and watching her eat that he forgot himself. 

“That was lovely!” Without thinking he raised his hand and snapped his fingers, instantly vanishing any mess clean and the dishes back into their appropriate place in the cabinets. 

Aziraphale clapped his hand to his mouth and the entire room froze. Crowley watched Eleven and was bemused to see that she didn’t look afraid, if anything she looked mildly surprised. After a long moment, Aziraphale began stuttering some sort of explanation. 

“I-I um, W-Well Eleven I suppose now is as good of a time as any to say-”

“Like me?” Eleven asked softly. Aziraphale drew up short, losing his train of thought as they both took in her question. Crowley spoke first:

“Like you? How do you mean kid?”

Eleven bit her lip a moment looking unsure, before turning her gaze to one of the walls of bookshelves. She narrowed her eyes, and a book began floating of its own accord towards them. Crowley looked at Aziraphale to confirm that he wasn’t doing it, seeing Aziraphale looked just as shocked as he did. Slowly the book drifted forward and Aziraphale held out his hands before catching it in his hands. Eleven wiped her nose with her sleeve and watched them both warily.

“Huh,” Crowley said lightly, “Well that is... interesting.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale croaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-feeding Syndrome is an actual condition that is relatively common among malnourished or starving individuals. Essentially when the body is starving the body starts slowing/shutting down 'non-essential organs' like the digestive system. When you introduce food again, especially nutrient dense food rather suddenly, it essentially (and quite rudely) wakes up the digestive system, and the brain and body have to remember how to use it again. 
> 
> And speaking from personal experience, that shit HURTS! It can cause cramping, vomiting, diarrhea, and fluid build-up that can cause swelling that makes wearing CLOTHES or being TOUCHED painful! 
> 
> I don't know if Eleven was malnourished in the show but I definitely don't think she was getting all her needs met.
> 
> I hoped you liked this chapter! Drink Water and stay safe my dears! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all have a chat, and Eleven discovers music!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the delay, life's been kinda crazy. I hope you like this chapter! Sorry for any errors in advance.

After breakfast, they all gathered in the sitting room, looking at each other and not knowing what to say. Aziraphale shifted and awkwardly and sipped his tea; when he realized that Crowley was perfectly content to remain sprawled on the couch in silence, Aziraphale spoke up. 

“So!” He placed his cup on a nearby end table before bringing his hands together to fiddle with his ring. “I imagine that you have some questions Eleven?”

Eleven glanced between the two of them and shrugged. Crowley thankfully chose this moment to chip in. 

“And we got some questions too, so how about we take turns; you ask a question, then we ask a question.”

A flash of fear crossed Eleven’s face and Aziraphale was quick to reassure her, “We won’t ask you to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable dear. We would appreciate any information you can give us however. We don’t want to harm you, Crowley and I just want to understand, alright?”

Eleven looked between him and Crowley, looking for evidence of dishonesty in their faces. She must have been satisfied with what she found in their expressions, because she relaxed slightly and nodded. 

Aziraphale gave a satisfied wiggle, “Wonderful. Would you like to start us off then dear? What would you like to know?”

Eleven swallowed and seemed to gather her voice before asking; “What are you?”

Aziraphale blinked; he wasn’t sure what question to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. He looked at Crowley, who had sat up and was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, glasses firmly in place. 

“Not pullin any punches huh?” Crowley muttered. Eleven looked down to tug at the hem of her sweater before speaking again. 

“Your...not people. I can see it.”

“You can see it.” Aziraphale repeated gently. “Could you elaborate a bit? What do you see?”

For a moment Aziraphale was worried he had pushed too far, as she gripped her sweater so hard that her knuckles turned white. Before he could take it back however, Eleven took a deep breath and regarded Crowley first. 

“Snake.” Crowley’s eyebrows raised, but said nothing; then Eleven turned to Aziraphale. “Eyes..”

Aziraphale sat back in surprise; no human had ever seen his true form before. He shared a concerned glance with Crowley before speaking again. 

“Well.. you’re right. We are not people. I am an angel, and Crowley is, well-”

“A demon.” Crowley cut in. “Not active duty though, we’re retired. What you saw earlier, that was one of our miracles.”

“Miracles?”

“Yup. Miracles, magic, whatever you want to call it. It’s part of the ‘not people’ bit, I can also turn into a snake; and well… I got the snake eyes.” Crowley muttered the last bit, still self-conscious about his eyes even though Aziraphale told him time and time again that they are lovely. 

Eleven processed this information with a furrowed brow. She didn’t ask to see Crowley’s eyes, which Crowley looked like he appreciated. She nodded and looked up. “Your turn.”

Goodness Aziraphale had already forgotten about their quid pro quo. “Ah! Ok, well, I suppose I would like to ask how long have you had your abilities?”

“Forever.” Eleven responded. “Are there more angels and demons?” Crowley looked pleased to see that she was getting less scared to speak up and ask questions.

“There are. But we’re the only ones that live on Earth. We’ve been here since the beginning.” 

“The beginning?”

“Beginning of Earth, humanity and what not. Now we more or less guard the place. We don’t work for heaven or hell anymore. We’re on our own side.” At that, Aziraphale sent him a look so full of love that Crowley flushed and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.

“Ngk- right so, our turn again. What all can you do?”

“Move things.” Eleven hesitated before continuing, “Move people. Listen.”

“Listen?” Aziraphale prodded. 

“Sometimes. Sometimes I can listen to anyone. Anywhere.” The haunted look came back into her eyes and Aziraphale got the hint to come back to this later. 

“You’re doing great Eleven. We’re very proud. Would you like to ask us something now?”

“Can you miracle me? Take it away?”

Aziraphale frowned in sympathy; “I’m sorry my dear, I’m afraid we can’t. Our miracles actually don’t work on you for some reason.”

Eleven’s head jerked up and fixed them with an accusing stare, “You’ve tried to miracle me?”

Aziraphale winced slightly at her tone, but Crowley answered before he could think of an answer. “Only to heal you kid. You were pretty banged up when we found you, we just wanted to help.” 

Eleven narrowed her eyes briefly, before relaxing and leaning back into the couch again with a nod. After a moment of silence, she said quietly, “Your turn.”

Crowley was the first one to speak again this time; “Where are your parents Eleven?”

Eleven paled at the question and looked down at her knees. “I have a Papa.” 

Aziraphale leaned forward, “Do you want to go back to-”

“No.” Eleven was the strongest it had been all morning. “No. Not going back. I’ll die first.”

Aziraphale and Crowley both looked stricken, horrified at the fact a child was so casually talking about dying at the prospect of returning to someone who was supposed to protect them.

“It’s not going to come to that.” Aziraphale said softly, “We are going to keep you safe my dear. Do you believe that your father will be looking for you?”

Eleven nodded somberly. “He’ll want me back.”

Another tense silence came over the small group. Aziraphale waited for Eleven to take a drink of tea before speaking again. “I believe it’s your turn to ask a question my dear. We can make this the last one of you would like.”

Eleven nodded in agreement before appearing to contemplate her question. “Why?”

Aziraphale tilted his head curiously, “Why what?”

“Why did you help me? You don’t know me. I’m… bad.”

Aziraphale looked over to Crowley, instinctively thinking he would be better suited to answer this question. 

Crowley leaned forward, waiting for Eleven to look at him before responding. “Your papa tell you that kid?”

Eleven nodded, eyes glistening, “Made me do bad things. Makes me bad.”

At this point Aziraphale got up to make some tea. He had a feeling Crowley wouldn’t want an audience for this discussion. 

All the same, he couldn’t help but be curious what his murmured voice was saying as he waited for the kettle to reheat. Crowley, being a demon of hell, certainly knew just as much as Aziraphale what it was like to be tasked with less favorable missions; Crowley in particular valued free will more than any other demon Aziraphale had ever met. He never wanted to do bad, he far more preferred just presenting the temptation and letting the humans decide for themselves. 

He knew Crowley had taken credit for most of humanity’s atrocities Downstairs, but he also knew how deeply it bothered Crowley to be considered responsible for those things. He remembered how Crowley didn’t speak to Aziraphale for nearly a century after he made the mistake of assuming Crowley was responsible for the Inquisition, and spent the next several decades after that apologizing. Crowley would never admit it, but his love really was a terrible demon in the best ways. 

After stalling for a good 20 minutes picking out the tea and fixing mugs for everyone, he carefully carried the tray out into the living room. He didn’t comment that Eleven had moved to Crowley’s side of the couch, burrowing herself into his side, but his heart constricted at the sight. 

Crowley smiled tightly up at Aziraphale, and at the sound of the tray of mugs being set down on the coffee table, Eleven carefully unwound herself and Aziraphale pretended not to notice when she wiped her eyes before looking up at him. 

As she sipped her tea, Aziraphale figured he no longer needed to restrain his use of miracles and snapped his fingers to turn on Beethoven’s _Für Elise_ on the record player. He jumped when Eleven suddenly choked on her tea and set her mug down with a clatter, spilled tea going unnoticed as she stumbled to the record player. 

Assuming she was frightened, Aziraphale immediately raised his hand to wave the record player off when Crowley stopped him. 

“Angel wait a mo’.”

Aziraphale paused and took a closer look at Eleven; she didn’t look frightened, instead she looked awestruck. Her eyes were still wet from tears, but they were wide and curious, mouth hanging slightly open. 

“What… what is this?” Her voice was hushed. 

Aziraphale smiled tenderly, “It’s music my dear.”

“M-music?”

“Yes, this piece was composed by Beethoven,” Aziraphale felt himself getting excited by the possibilities of all the music they could show her. “There are many, many lovely pieces of music. Now I’m personally not versed in more modern bebop like Crowley is but he can definitely show you if you’re interested-” 

“We can teach you how to make music too kid.”

That shook Eleven out of her trance, “You-you could? I can do that?” She gestured towards the record player. 

Crowley shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant and aloof, “You can do whatever you want now kid. You wanna learn how to play music like that, we’ll show you.”

There are many moments throughout history that Aziraphale knew he would never forget. He knew without a doubt that being rewarded with Eleven's smile for the first time, a full, bright grin full of hope and happiness that lit up her eyes, making her look younger than she ever had, was something that he would remember for the rest of his long life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo Do you think Eleven would be a classical music gal, or a sucker for modern beebop? Maybe an eclectic, loving a little bit of everything?
> 
> Lemme know what you think! Thank you so much for reading!  
> Drink plenty of water and stay safe my dears!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter I was able to get out before the writers block set in...

The next few weeks were quite close to blissful for the new trio. 

Once Eleven had discovered music, a new world had been revealed to her. Aziraphale found himself eager to introduce her to thousands of years worth of wonderful pieces by composers who were good friends of his when they were alive. 

They started slowly, starting with pieces with only one instrument, and then adding more complicated and diverse songs over time. Aziraphale focused mostly on instrumental compositions, noting that she seemed to enjoy the piano and the violin the most. Aziraphale was delighted when she even began to offer her opinion and show preferences for composers like Liszt and  Tchaikovsky. 

The only blip that they still struggled with was the nights. If Eleven didn’t wake up screaming, then she was found curled up into a ball under her bed, the sheets either soaked in urine or not slept in at all. When Crowley gently prodded, Eleven confided that she never slept in a bed before she lived with them. She learned to tell when someone was coming for her when she could feel their approaching footsteps from the ground, and being in a bed made her feel like she had lost a sense. 

Crowley nodded gently and said all the right things when she told him. He offered to lower her bed to a mattress on the floor as a compromise. He suggested listening to music at night to help her sleep and he offered her a nightlight. All of those things she accepted with a quiet thanks and an even quieter apology. 

The first chance he got alone however, he went to the greenhouse and destroyed every everything in sight. Broke shelves and smashed pots until he was surrounded by shards of pottery, broken pieces of wood, and absolutely petrified plants. 

When he relayed to Aziraphale what Eleven had told him, his mouth had hardened into a thin line and those sparkling blue eyes had turned to ice. The air around them actually began to crackle, and it took several cups of tea before Aziraphale finally calmed down. 

They had also started Eleven’s reading lessons. Despite being a nanny, Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t know much about children’s education recently. They knew they would probably need to enroll Eleven in school at some point, but they both felt she wasn’t ready for the crowds of schools yet, and they could provide her a sufficient education until they were sure she could leave them without her safety being compromised. 

On the morning of their third week, Aziraphale suggested they all visited Anathema and the Them. 

“The… Them?”

“They’re a group of kids led by the antichrist.” Crowley drawled without looking up from his phone screen. “Alright bunch though, decent kid despite his dad’s reputation.”

When Eleven didn’t respond right away, Aziraphale piped up gently, “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, dear, it just might be nice to interact with children in your age group. Also, Anathema might be able to offer us some advice.”

When Eleven’s face remained blank, Aziraphale continued, “Oh silly me, I forgot you don’t know Anathema. She’s a witch, or is the descendent of a rather famous one. But she is very educated in niche and more occult matters, and she might be able to offer us more insight on your abilities if you’re interested.”

Eleven stared hard at her tea, clearly thinking. Aziraphale and Crowley left her to her thoughts, sipping their tea quietly before eventually she agreed. By the afternoon and with minimal fussing from Aziraphale about whether or not to bring snacks or pack an umbrella, they were off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Eleven meets the Them!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, its so so appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be real with you guys, this is a WIP, I don't really have a definitive posting schedule for this one like I do for my other fics. But this project has captured me so I will be updating as much as I can, the next one being in the next few days :)
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this! I appreciate and love comments and feedback to help me grow :)
> 
> Drink water and Stay Safe my dears!


End file.
